Roads
by Rel Fexive
Summary: A Peacekeeper soldier comes to realise many things are not as they seem...
1. Chapter Alto

**Roads**

By **Rel Fexive**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Farscape or the characters. If I did, I'd treat them kindly.

**Feedback:** If you have something to say, you can e-mail me at

**Archiving:** If you like it you can have it, but not befory, and this is the final (if greatly delayed) result of that concept. There will be no bleeding over into the crossover here, though.

**Spoilers:** NONE! This particular fic does not impinge on any episodes at all.

**Timeframe:** Three and a half cycles before _Premiere_.

**Summary:** A Peacekeeper soldier comes to realise many things are not as they seem…

**Comments:** The central character in this fic was created in a crossover story on an RPG forum based a long time ago and far, far away. Since then I have been toying with the idea of an origins story, and this is the final (if greatly delayed) result of that concept. There will be no bleeding over into the crossover here, though. Other fics may follow to make a series as time and inspiration allow. And on that subject, the story 'Unseen Hands' by Jess Pallas inspired the whole concept for this character. Thanks Jess! ;-)

Ohh, can't anybody see  
We've got a war to fight  
Never found our way  
Regardless of what they say

How can it feel, this wrong  
From this moment  
How can it feel, this wrong

_Roads_, Portishead

**CHAPTER ALTO  
**

The dim sun was overhead when we reached the outskirts of the city. The light stained everything red, turning our combat gear the colour of blood. As we slipped through narrow streets made narrower by rubble we saw little evidence of life.

Goran was just ahead on my left and Saryn far on the right as we carefully stepped over debris, scanning our surroundings for hints of danger, any shadows that indicated an ambush. The place remained stubbornly lifeless. Behind me the tracker the lieutenant carried continued to beep quietly; the sound as unchanged as it had been for the last seven arns. The source of the faint signal it was locked onto remained almost a whole solar day ahead of us.

Verrta was an unremarkable world in and of itself, but High Command had determined the system was an important bridgehead from which the Scarrans or their allies could launch an attack on our space. It needed strengthening, reinforcing to ensure the security of the Sebacean people. Our leaders had attempted to use the threat of possible invasion to convince the natives, the Vaerryn, to allow us to place a substantial Peacekeeper garrison on their planet; after all, any move to attack us would mean a Scarran planetary assault would destroy the Vaerryn first.

They resisted our offer to protect them from our savage and mutual enemies. Rumour suggested they were trying to play both sides; had they already made a similar agreement with the Scarrans? Whatever the reason for their defiance, High Command concluded that we could not risk Verrta falling into the hands of the enemy and so plans were drawn up to secure the system.

That was a cycle ago, and now we Peacekeepers controlled the system. Two Command Carriers rested in high orbit, directing the final stages of the Pacification of Verrta, as it would later be known. The governments were in exile, their armies smashed, cities blasted to rubble. Numerous Peacekeeper bases dotted the landscape, slowly gathering the natives together and organising the restoration of their shattered civilisation into a form that would serve us best. This was as it should be; we had proven our superiority once more by defeating the Vaerryn, and now they would serve us as we wished. Their world would become an important staging point for the Peacekeepers in the future.

The remaining ground forces had a lot of work to do. There were still many pockets of resistance present on Verrta, less of them every day, and they all needed to be eliminated. I had been part of that effort until a few solar days before, when my transfer orders had come in. I had been moved sideways and upwards to Alto Company as a sergeant under the command of Lieutenant Lan and the second of the small squad assembled for a special mission.

A Vaerryn child lay half-buried in rubble to my right, between Saryn and me. A small dwelling had collapsed into the street on a crossroads. Saryn kept watch as I carefully approached the wreckage of someone's home, trying to ascertain if it posed a threat. The body, like all Vaerryn, was superficially similar to the pure Sebacean template, with head, arms and legs, but there the resemblance stopped. The skin was a scaly yellow-orange, almost plastic in appearance; the head elongated, with ears flat against the head; large, light sensitive eyes; wide nasal slits. Suited to life on a world with a distant red sun.

I carefully stepped over the small, wrecked form without another glance and scrutinised the interior of the blasted house, eyeballing for traps and the like. Satisfied there was no such threat I picked my way back out again and the wary team continued on.

We were not exactly sure what we were after. Some sort of signal led us on in pursuit of unknown prey. We were sure the Lieutenant knew. The mission profile had mentioned deserters and looters, which seemed incomprehensible. Deserters were always apprehended and punished, everyone knew that. What could they hope to achieve? We held the planet; no one could reach space without one of the Command Carriers tracking it. Who would try to desert on a planet that was so closely watched? And what could the planet offer looters that they could not get from Peacekeeper supply depots?

Trooper Edan, who stalked a short distance ahead of the rest of us, suddenly crouched and made the gesture for stop, mere microts before his point partner, Polen, did the same. The whole squad came to a halt, crouching and scanning our surroundings through the sights of our rifles. Nothing moved. Rhedd and Rokko, at the rear, kept watch that way.

A long time passed, or seemed to, before Polen glanced at Edan from within her dark visor and eased herself upright. Carefully shifting forwards, each step slowly put down to avoid making noise, she crept towards the source of whatever it was that had caught their attention. She drifted through the rubble with barely a sound made, only the puffs of dust from the lifting of her feet revealing she was real instead of some holo projection.

When she was almost out of sight behind a broken section of wall Polen froze but almost immediately stood up straight and turned, her suddenly deafening, unhurried footsteps the only sound other than the wind. A quick gesture to Edan sent him forwards on point again, covering the right side of the street while Polen took the left.

"Squad," Lan called out quietly over the comms, "advance."

I adjusted my grip on my pulse rifle as I stood, flexing the fingers of my right hand to work out the cramp. On we went, with me keeping my attention mostly focused on the left side of the street. When I passed the rubble Polen had paused at, I saw what had caught her attention; the head of a Vaerryn, his authority brands seared onto the sides of his head, impaled on a makeshift jinka pole that creaked a little in the wind. Around the pole lay the bodies of a dozen others, bodies resting in attitudes suggesting they had been killed from concentrated pulse weapon fire at close range. Just another object lesson for the remaining rebels.

--------------------------------------------------

We reached the outskirts of the city about an arn before sunset and set up camp for the night in one corner of a massive, ruined building, draping bivouac sheets over the rubble. With Tenzac and Saryn on guard the rest of us removed our helmets and sipped gratefully from our water canisters. Even at rest we all seemed to be at attention, our combat armour making us look like black statues at rest around a heat plate. Goran, the corporal Lan had chosen from his company for this assignment, was on "cooking" duty. He usually managed to make the most of our rations by judiciously applying a little seasoning to the hard, nutritious but tasteless matter. Even Leviathan food cubes were more appealing, though, of course, no one complained. We were soldiers, not Hynerian gourmets.

The lieutenant finished his meal quickly and took the tracker with him, to get a better fix on the mysterious source of the transmission we were following. He had done it every day for the three days we had been on this assignment. With him supposedly out of earshot, the talk continued as it always did.

"I still reckon it must be the last surviving member of their local council," Ishanden reiterated, insistently sticking to his theory against all attacks. Stubborn and hardheaded, he was the sort of soldier you wanted to have in a squad when the fighting started. Battle-hardened and scarred, born right into the ranks of the Peacekeepers, this was his sixth campaign.

"And they're broadcastin' their position while their at it, are they?" Edan responded scornfully. Less battered than Ishanden he shared the same look nonetheless. Rumour said he had resisted recruitment into SpecOps. He looked the part, though; dark, feral, dangerous. A sense of superiority that made itself known in his Pronouncements.

"Nah, we got special ops on their tails tracking 'em for us, but it's not the council, it's their wives," Polen suggested. "You know how important their wives are to them. Good hostages." Polen was an exemplary soldier, like the others, with a knack for danger, spotting it as well as being in the middle of it. Both aspects made her perfectly suited for point duty, and she and Edan made a good team.

"What d'you think, Sarge?" Edan asked me, in a challenging tone. They were still testing me, sounding me out, seeing if I was a good replacement for my predecessor, who had been captured by Vaerryn rebels two weekens ago. I thought for a moment before answering.

"I think we'll not know for certain if we let either of the other two squads get to them ahead of us," I replied quietly, reminding them that if the soldiers in one of those squads captured our elusive prey they would get all the glory. Ishanden laughed.

"Yeah, we can't let those dren-eaters get the medals!" The trooper shook his head, chuckling.

"Do you think it's some Scalies we're after, Sarge, or are we really tracking traitors?" Edan enquired, pushing for an answer. For a moment everything seemed to stop as, by coincidence, everyone's eyes turned to me as I took a breath to make my reply. It was momentary but unsettling. They obviously did not care that I knew they resented me, with me replacing their old sergeant. Soldiers always distrust new, unproven leaders, or at least those unproven in their presence.

"If we're following a signal, something must be producing it. Could be a Black Ghost, following them close, could be they are doing it themselves without knowing about it." I shrugged. "Or maybe they do know and it's a trap. There's only one way to know for sure: catch them." I stood, lifting my rifle up from the ground without thought as I did so.

With a nod to Saryn I left our small perimeter within the confines of the ruined edifice. Across the other side of the complex was a sluice room I had passed through earlier when we had been securing the area. Slinging the pulse rifle over my shoulder I dipped my biosensor into the water gathered in the huge washing basin in the centre of the room. A few microts passed before both lights glowed green, declaring the water was both safe against the skin and also safe to drink. Poisoning water supplies was an everyday guerrilla trick, and one also employed by the Peacekeepers.

I took a double handful of water and lowered my face into it, rubbing the sweat and grime away. I gulped a mouthful of water from another handful but only swished it around before spitting it backs out again. The sloshing of water was suddenly loud in the empty chamber and I glanced around, feeling somehow guilty for disturbing a silence like that of a tomb. In fact, it almost certainly _was_ a tomb; it was highly likely that several bodies lay under the rubble around us.

By this time the water in the basin had settled down, bringing me face to face with a lean-faced Sebacean dressed in the armour of the Peacekeeper infantry. The hair was raggedly cut short, dark blonde; the dark eyes had rings under them; some stubble was coming through. I had seen better days. I remembered how I had looked on the day I survived Youth Training and moved on to the real thing, and on the day I graduated and received my first combat assignment. Cleaner, taller perhaps, my back straighter, less stooped by fatigue. Dress uniform pressed and clean: Peacekeeper Arrin Hekka, reporting for duty, filled with pride. Fatigue and battle weariness had begun to weight heavily, but the discipline and the honour were still there, the strengths that held the Peacekeepers together.

I left my reflection behind as I had discarded my first life and picked my way back through the ruins. On the way past a broken doorway out onto a rubble-strewn lawn, a shadow flickered in the corner of my eye and I tensed to alertness in a microt, rifle ready in my hands. A brief moment of stillness passed as I waited for something to happen; when nothing did I eased myself forwards stealthily towards the source of the motion.

What I found was Lieutenant Lan, leaning against a wall, half-hidden in shadow, with the tracker in one hand and a small comm unit in the other.

"Affirmative. Lan out," he said, speaking into the comm before shutting it down. He slipped the device into a pouch on his belt and pushed himself up away from the wall. Lan, broad-shouldered with his head shaved down to the shortest of stubble, passed the tracking device to and fro in front of him a few times before catching the signal again. The bleeping sounded stronger than it had before; were we finally closing in on our enigmatic quarry?

I found his behaviour more than a little peculiar, at least initially. We had been ordered to maintain radio silence until the completion of the mission, even with the other squads, unless an emergency required we make contact. But perhaps Lan had his own orders, secret orders? That seemed likely, if the mission was as sensitive and important as it looked to be. So I did not question his use of the comm any further, nor did I bring it up later, which was my privilege as second in the squad.

I got back to the camp before him and we all ate before settling down for the night. I had the early morning watch; things remained quiet and the time passed so slowly each microt felt like a cycle. Eventually the light began to grow and the sky began to regain it's usual daytime hue, a red-tinged blue, more like purple.

There was time for a hurried breakfast before we continued on our way.

--------------------------------------------------

Despite our apparent closeness to the source of the signal, we did not draw closer for another five solar days. Both the quarry and us appeared to pushing ourselves in an effort to get away and keep up respectively. The signal led us out of the city into the foothills of the mountain range that lay between the city and the spaceport.

I wondered how the other tracker squads were faring. Lena Tamat, my oldest friend from back in Youth Training, was in one of them. We were friends, allies; we had fought together, played together, recreated together, but nothing outside the strictures set down by High Command. There had been pain between us when we were younger because of this, but we soon matured and set childishness aside. Or rather, I did. It was different for her; she had been born into the Peacekeepers in the bowels of a Command Carrier. Such attitudes were normal to her, or rather more normal. I had to struggle to learn what she had been born knowing in a place where you learned your lessons or died.

The terrain was rough, whether it be flat rock, craggy cliff or gravelly slope. Trying to cross such a landscape while maintaining squad discipline and keeping on the signal was not easy, especially when the way through was not always direct. The only resistance we encountered was a small herd of native rock leapers, furry beasts about half our size adept at climbing and jumping from rock to rock. They took exception to us moving through their territory, it seemed, but they soon ran when the opposition proved to be more than they could possibly handle. There was a lesson for the Vaerryn there.

I kept quiet about Lan's surreptitious comm call, of course. It was not my place to comment on it, even if I had the right; if I had not been told, it was because I did not need to be. Special orders for our commander, probably relating to the truth behind the mission. I am sure he made at least one more stealthy call during those five days.

On the sixth day, everything changed.

We had just made a difficult climb up a ravine when it happened. The ravine was narrow and sloped upwards very steeply. It had taken several arns to get us all up there while those not climbing covered their ascent. I had been amongst the first up and had kept watch on the broken, rocky terrain ahead, an area roughly like a bowl split in two with a opening at opposite sides, one for the ravine and one for the path onwards. Polen agreed with my assessment: prime ambush territory.

Once everyone was up, Polen and Edan set off on the path Lan indicated, tense and alert for danger; they knew if there was an ambush, they were the bait. They were halfway towards a ragged tear in the ground like a natural trench when they stopped suddenly, frozen in place. Something had caught their attention, some movement, sound or presence. The moment lengthened, the microts drawn out till we were all on edge. None of us resting or crouching in the cover of a handful of jagged boulders could see what had caused them to stop. Slowly crouching, the two scanned their surroundings with their rifles ready.

Then, just when they seemed sure that all was clear, Edan started to turn back towards us. A gesture was begun but was not completed as a hail of fire rained down on them, the gleaming bolts of pulse weapons mixed with the barking of more primitive firearms. Both threw themselves down, Polen marginally more successful than Edan was, who caught a few glancing hits before getting himself down onto the ground behind what little cover there was. Unfortunately, most of the fire seemed to be coming from elevated positions around the kill zone, so that cover was of little help by itself.

It was highly likely that the ambush had not gone as planned. Perhaps Polen or Edan had noticed some sign of the presence of the hidden attackers, or maybe one of the ambushers had acted too early and drawn the others along with him. It did not matter either way; our comrades were under attack and such thoughts were for later.

Lan barked some orders and most of us dashed forwards, leaving Tenzac, Rhedd and Rokko to cover the rear. Lan took Goran and Ishanden to the left while Saryn and me made for the cover of a shelf-like outcrop on the right of the ambush area. We began to take some of the heat off Polen and Edan by accepting some of the fire that had been directed at them and sending some of our own right back. All we had to shoot at was the sources of the pulse fire, since our foes had yet to properly show themselves; they were grouped behind boulders on the slopes around the kill zone.

From where the two of us were below the shelf it seemed we could not be seen from the ambushers situated above us, so we elected to take advantage of that. Saryn hefted a grenade around the edge in the general direction of our concealed opponents; the short, sharp explosion was quickly followed up by rapid rifle fire from me while he scrambled to a better position up-slope from around the other side of the shelf. It seemed mostly successful, as he got about halfway up the slope towards cover roughly level with the boulders the attackers were using before they began to open up on him. He dodged the reddish-yellow bolts of energy, a sure sign that their chakan oil was either old or contaminated, and slid to a stop behind a handy boulder.

A quick throw and a gesture prompted my own mad scrabble up the slope. The detonation of another grenade was enough of a distraction for me to get my speed up, but it was not as easy as Saryn had made it look. A few shots came frelling close to ending my career permanently; I even heard the loud rattle of solid shot scattering off my helmet as one of the more primitive firearms caught me. It rocked me as I ran, bright lights spinning before my eyes. I actually slipped down to one knee and backwards a few steps before I got a grip and continued on. When I finally threw myself down into cover beside Saryn he slapped me on the top of my now scarred helmet.

"You're a lucky one, Sarge," he shouted over the din. "You'd be dead but for that scattergun. Pulse fire would've fried ya were ya stood."

"Fight now," I told him, "talk later."

We turned and opened fire at the attackers from different sides of the boulder. From where we were we could see the attackers at last. Unsurprisingly, they were Vaerryn, dressed in camouflage gear that helped them to blend in with the rocks. Our position finally meant we could really hit back at them; a few dropped before the rest realised the real danger they were in and kept low, firing blindly at us to keep us from advancing on their positions.

I took the opportunity to get a clear idea of the rest of the skirmish. Lan's threesome was in much the same position as us over on the other side of the bowl, while Polen and Edan had dragged themselves towards more robust cover. They both seemed to have acquired a number of hits; I was unable to judge their number or severity from that distance. At the ravine, Rokko was concentrating on watching the approach up the incline, while the other two were laying down long-range suppressive fire on the centre fire zone.

"Lieutenant!" I called out over the squad comm channel. "Hekka. We are well situated for attack."

"Sergeant, attack in blue," was Lan's reply, indicating a delay of twenty microts. "Secure your flank of the area and stand by for orders to attack the forward fire zone."

"Yes sir!"

A quick discussion followed before the two of us each grabbed a rock about fist sized and hurled them towards the enemy. As I had hoped, enough of them ducked down to escape the counterfeit grenades that we were able to get a lot closer to them, actually overrunning the nearest position and killing the two rebels that hid there. Then, as I gathered myself for another sprint towards what looked like a wide crack in the rock that was being used as an improvised trench, I noticed the level of noise had decreased. _Good_, I thought, _we're winning_.

Saryn covered me as I quickly crossed the distance between here and there, ducking low and weaving to avoid being hit as best I could. Pausing for a microt to catch my breath, I slipped swiftly around the boulder to find myself face to face with two 'freedom fighters'. The nearest was half out of the trench and seemed more surprised to see me than his comrade, who had seen me coming and no doubt had fired at me too.

I kicked the nearer one hard in the chest, throwing him back down into the trench and into the second. A quick burst of fire settled the matter quite promptly, catching the first as he struggled to regain his feet and nicking the second as he tried to free his weapon. Even injured he continued to try to wrestle it out from under the body of his partner, at least until I shot him a few more times. That stopped him.

Things went much the same way for a while longer. I covered Saryn, then he covered me again as we alternated attacking. The judicious use of a few grenades made up for our lack of numbers when the distance was too great or the cover too sparse to risk a direct run. We had cleared out the half-dozen positions on our side a little slower than Lan's lot had, but then it would be easier with three people. Tenzac and Rhedd had managed to keep the aliens in the centre zone occupied, though a few shots occasionally made their way in our direction as we got nearer.

Then, just as I saw the lieutenant make the 'prepare' gesture from across the other side of the bowl, I heard voices calling out over the sound of weapons fire.

"Cease fire! Cease fire!"

It seemed like the Vaerryn were surrendering or something; the accent filtering through the translator microbes sounded right. As usual, the rebels were happy to attack when they had the upper hand, but as soon as things got really difficult they ran away or gave themselves up. Which, naturally, had only one outcome for those guilty of acts of violent rebellion.

A look around told me I had guessed right, mostly. With both flanks of the ambushing group taken out the centre was weakening. From where I was I could even see some of them arguing amongst themselves. A quick word to Saryn and we were up, taking advantage of the rebel's indecision to get to a nearer and better position and be ready to assault the last few positions. Our movement and the covering fire we gave each other seemed to fan the flames of the Vaerryn's faltering resistance; the volume of weapon fire suddenly rose sharply.

I could just see the lieutenant gesturing wildly out of the corner of my eye, but the scarring at the edge of my helmet visor distorted it so I could not make them out. Besides, I was more concerned with not getting shot. For just a microt I had the strangest feeling: it was like I was facing the last rebels all by myself on an open plain, flat and featureless, with no cover and no backup, instead of being part of a squad acting as much in concert as was possible in combat. Then the pulse blast hit.

It span me round and threw me down to the ground, the pain knifing itself into my side an folding me up like I was just a piece of datasheet. As I fell the pulse fire seemed to fly over me in slow motion before the bowl fell silent but for the sound of my ragged breathing, loud in my helmet. I rolled onto my back awkwardly, trying to get my bearings, when two things hit me like a pair of pantac jabs.

The bolt had hit me in the back.

Saryn was standing over me with his rifle pointed right at my head.

Everything seemed to move so slowly again as I struggled to get a grip on my rifle. It was just out of reach, but it might as well have been locked away in a box on the Scarran homeworld. The lieutenant came running up, though it was as if he was moving through water. I thought I was beyond surprise, lost in shock as I was, but the sight of the Vaerryn beside him rocked me like I'd been shot again. Lan saw my fingers scrabbling more desperately for my rifle and stepped forwards.

"Can't have that," he stated calmly, before his boot impacted hard on my helmet and bright pinwheels faded into darkness.

**END OF CHAPTER ALTO  
**


	2. Chapter Bora

**Roads**

By **Rel Fexive**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Farscape or the characters. If I did, you'd be watching Season Seven by now.

**Summary:** Truths of many kinds are revealed.

**Note:** The chapters are named after companies in a regiment. On Earth, companies might be Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta. In the Peacekeepers, I say they use Alto, Bora, Calo and Dimo. The equivalent of India would, of course, be Icarion.

**CHAPTER BORA**

I was dragged back to consciousness by pain, like a knife being twisted in my back, before it was damped down by… painkillers? Then I was pushed back against a rough surface of some kind, which sparked different pain in my head. I groaned. A microt's pointless struggle revealed that my hands lay in my lap, securely cuffed.

A chuckle was followed by the sound of receding footsteps. Bootsteps, in fact. Standard issue Peacekeeper.

It all came back in a rush. The pursuit, the ambush… The betrayal. Shot in the back by one of my own… except they weren't mine. So whose the frell were they?

Quiet words reached me over the crackling of a fire. The accents, detectable through the wash of the translator microbes, varied between Sebacean and Vaerryn. I kept my eyes closed and listened.

"…still following the fake trails," an alien voice said in a determined tone.

"Good." Lan. "It will give us the time to get where we're going."

"Is everything ready there?" Another Vaerryn voice. A pause, perhaps a nodding of a head. "I hope so, for their sake." Sounds of mumbled assent. "Will the sensors be ready in time?"

"One of our people is working to cloud them right now," Lan said quietly. "They'll have their clear path when it's needed."

A kick at my feet made my eyes spring open before I could stop myself. Found myself staring at Goran, who was grinning down at me.

"Wakey wakey," he said. "Want dinner?"

"Frell you," I told him.

"Maybe later." He turned to campfire a few motras away. The fire was in the middle of a mid-sized cave that had the look of a temporary camp. Sat around it I could see Lan, Edan and Polen along with about half a dozen Vaerryn rebels. "Lan," Goran called. "He's awake."

"I know." The lieutenant looked at those around him. "If we're done?"

"For the moment," the owner of the second alien voice told him with a frown on it's – no, his, it was sometimes hard to tell – plastic-like face.

"My problem," Lan told him. "I'll deal with it."

"If you say so," the alien replied, apparently unconvinced, and turned to speak very quietly with his compatriots. Lan left the fire and approached me and stopped beside Goran.

"How is he?"

"Saryn says he'll be fine," Goran reported. "Armour caught the worst of it. Meds are taking care of the rest."

"Good," Lan nodded. "Now back on the perimeter."

"Aye-firmative." Goran hefted his rifle and departed.

"Just you and me, now," Lan told me.

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"Don't you wish things had gone a little different?" Lan asked me almost conversationally. As if he was commenting on the weather instead of how he was a traitor. I just glared at him, of course. "I mean," he continued, "if you had been a little less determined to do your job, Saryn wouldn't have had to shoot you. You would've stood down when ordered and we wouldn't be here, now, like this."

No, he would have killed me later instead. I was sure of that. No way this little meeting of rebels could have happened with me conscious, or alive. I wondered how many of the others he and Goran had killed.

Or had they? Could anything like whatever it was that was going on be hidden from the squad mates who knew them? Easy to conceal something like that from a newcomer, not so easy with the people you lived, worked and played with every arn of every day. Maybe the whole squad was… what?

"You're wondering what all this is about." Lan's face was without expression as he sat down close by me. His hands rested in his lap, his legs were crossed, and for a microt he almost looked like some kind of priest. I kept silent; no reason for a prisoner to speak to his captors. "They have most of the Council, you know," Lan told me suddenly. "They've kept it quiet so the hope of the Vaerryn leaders coming forth will draw the rebels out. But without leverage, the Councillors aren't being very cooperative."

I resisted the urge to ask what he meant by leverage, though I had a good idea. There were many ways to make people and rulers do as you wished… and the main way was to threaten something… or someone… they held dear.

"Children," Lan said quietly. "And some wives." He paused, looking for something in my face. I don't know if he saw it. "We're getting them out, because they asked us to. So the Councillors will be free to sacrifice themselves for their people."

He stared out the cave mouth for a time, giving me a while to digest this… information. Did I believe it? Could I believe that Peacekeepers would risk their lives, risk the living death, for aliens? For their children? Of course not! How could any of us believe inferior beings worthy of such consideration? We brought order, we kept the peace, we protected ourselves against our foes; we did not seek to protect aliens at our own expense. We did not help inferiors.

_You are inferior._

I pushed the whispered voice from out of my memory back where it belonged, with the rest. It did not belong. It never had. I had proven the lie false.

When I pulled my eyes away from watching the rebels – the aliens – around the fire, Lan was watching me intently. Something in his face, his eyes, suggested he had finally seen what he had been looking for before. It scared me like nothing else did, not even the thought of being killed there in that cave and left to rot, deprived of the space burial I deserved as a loyal Peacekeeper.

"I checked your record," the lieutenant told me. "Origin, training, deployment." I clamped down on my fear and set my jaw, unwilling to show it. "You were inducted at an early age, rather than bred for service. Inducted, in fact, from a prison. Very precocious." A slight smile. "The only inductee in your cadre, brought straight into Youth Training first grade with others who had known only the Peacekeeper life from birth. It took you a while to adjust." Eyes flicked aside, then back, as he spoke.

I did not need him to remind me of my own past. Some parts of it I did my best to forget, others stayed with me however much I wished they did not.

"It was harder for you than most," Lan continued. "They all resented you, and you didn't want to be there. You resisted every attempt to conform." A pause, staring. "You were up for termination three times in the first cycle, did you know that?"

The shock must have shown on my face. Termination of Youth Trainees was reserved for the very worst cases, the most intractable recidivists. To be that close to a public execution three times in the first grade, when I was only ten cycles of age… I must have been considered more rebellious, more disobedient, than I had thought.

Lan was nodding.

"Of course, you never knew. The first you would have known was when they took you to face the firing squad." He shrugged. "It never happened, of course. Instead… Lorin Hess happened."

_You are inferior._

He had been the bane of my life. He amongst all the others, leading them, made my life more difficult than the Educators ever did. Whispered comments about my "filthy lineage" and how I was not worthy to be amongst "real Peacekeepers". It felt like he had pushed me, whispered in my ear, every single solar day for a quarter cycle.

_You are inferior._

"Deaths in a cadre are not uncommon," Lan reminded me coolly. "Expected, maybe, even looked for in some cases. During physical training, live fire exercises and the like. To weed out the weak, ensure only the strong survive. And sometimes… the trainees are expected to do the work themselves."

I remembered the look on his face when my private practicing of hand to hand techniques paid off and I deflected the blow that would have blinded me before. I followed through with a strike to his throat that sent him onto his back, my knee coming up to land in the same spot as he hit the training mat. The snap, the choking. The feeling of triumph.

"After his death," Lan continued, "you showed more promise. More discipline. Made allies. Survived."

"I wasn't inferior." The words came out of me before I could stop them. The lieutenant watched me for a moment, careful not to let anything show in his face. I tightened my flagging grip on myself and waited for the man – the traitor, I reminded myself – to continue.

"You proved yourself worthy to be a Peacekeeper," was how Lan described it. "But looked at from a certain… perspective, many of your actions since then show you to be less than perfect."

Suddenly angry, I glared at him. "Explain yourself," I growled, as if talking to a mere Trooper instead of a lieutenant and a traitor to Peacekeepers everywhere.

"I've looked at a number of reports," Lan explained, his expression hard, "and there's a pattern, if you care to look. You are not as ruthless as you seem to be, I think." His face softened slightly. "Call it an unwillingness to prey on the weak, if you like."

I tried to look like I did not know what he was talking about. "You are lying," I told him coldly. "I do my duty, unlike you."

"Perhaps, but not as fully as High Command might like. An order than sounds like a call for extermination would be read as such by most, but not necessarily by all. Sometimes orders can be… wilfully reinterpreted. 'Pacify' can mean 'discourage through persuasion' as well as 'kill everyone'."

"I do not disobey orders," I said stubbornly.

"I do," Lan told me plainly. "I reinterpret them, and disregard them entirely a lot of the time."

"Then you are a traitor."

"No more than you, in the eyes of High Command at least. But I am not a traitor, because I don't owe my allegiance to the Peacekeepers. Call me a spy, an insurgent, if you wish. But I am loyal to those to whom I have pledged myself."

"Who?" I had to know. Who had he sold himself to? The Scarrans? Or… who was worse than them? I could not think.

"The Sebacean people."

--------------------------------------------------

Lan got called away after he made that strange pronouncement. His friends asking him to solve some problem of their own making, no doubt. Which left me alone to think. That was almost certainly part of the plan too.

How could he say he was serving the Sebacean people? What did he think I was doing? What did he think the Peacekeepers did?

Why was I even paying attention to what a traitor was telling me?

And how did he know about… What had he called it? 'An unwillingness to prey on the weak'. That was the most important question. With the information he claimed to have he could have me up for execution by the living death right after him and his band of… whatever they were.

How would I describe it? The things I had done… actions that would make me anything less than the exemplary Peacekeeper I was… or appeared to be. Orders disobeyed, enemies of the Sebacean people left alive when they were supposed to be dead, the times I had looked the other way. And for what?

Non-combatants. Women. _Children_. Beings who could not be a threat to anyone… except perhaps until cycles later. There was something in me that meant I could not do what needed to be done. Something I could not describe, because I did not know what it was. It had no name that I knew… or would admit to knowing, even to myself.

"We weren't always like this, you know," Lan interrupted my thoughts, driving them deep under the Peacekeeper mask I always did my utmost to wear. Not many saw past it… Lena, maybe. When I let her. She knew me best, better than anyone.

I looked up at the lieutenant as he wanted me to, another audience of one for his little performance.

"The Peacekeepers, I mean," he continued, crouching down within arms reach, if I had been free to do so. "Aggressive. Warlike. Conquerors. We weren't always this way. Once we lived up to our name, and kept the peace. Enforced it, if necessary. Always in service to other races, never for our own gain. Made the galaxy a safe place to be. But the last… thousand cycles? Two? We are more concerned with ourselves, with our… superiority." He said the word as if it tasted bad in his mouth.

"We are superior," I reminded him, repeating the truths at the heart of everything it meant to be a Peacekeeper. "We keep the peace, we bring order when lesser races can not." These truths were at the heart of everything we did. But they had never seemed that self-evident to me, not after everything I had seen in my years of service. So much of what the Peacekeepers had done, what I had done for them, was not born of a need for order or peace, but from hatred, distrust and thirst for power. "We _are_ superior," I repeated, almost plaintively, the words sounding hollow.

"We are not superior," Lan told me quietly. "Only stronger. And only stronger than those we are stronger than." He stared at me intently. "Are you superior to a child because you have a pulse rifle and he does not?" I could not answer him, not with my throat as constricted as it was by… what was it? Another unfamiliar emotion… Such things were considered a weakness by the Peacekeepers, one that could get you killed, either by your foes… or your friends.

"Our strength should make us protectors," Lan pressed on, "not conquerors. But because of this so-called superiority, we, all Sebaceans, are hated everywhere we go. Where once we were protectors, servants of justice and keepers of the peace, now we are mistrusted and treated with suspicion." He leaned closer to me. "But that can change." There was a sincerity, a fervour, in his eyes, his voice. "The Peacekeepers can be changed."

"You're crazy." When I told him that obvious truth, Lan laughed.

"Probably," he agreed with a smile. "But someone has to try. And there are a lot of us trying. Trying to turn the tide of Peacekeeper aggression as best we can, offering some resistance to the path our leaders are taking us down. Some redirect supplies to the needy in war zones. Others lose pacification orders, or turn a blind eye to escaping non-combatants." He looked at me seriously for a long moment. "Some receive counter-orders, missions to subvert or spoil Peacekeeper operations… like now."

"Why are you telling me this?" I asked him. It seemed the proper time, and the way he had been looking at me prompted the question.

"Because you're already halfway there," Lan grinned. "All you lack is the direction, the purpose. And we can give you both. Something bigger than any of us here, and more important than the Peacekeepers. Saving us from ourselves." He stared intently again, looking as if he was trying to see through my skull and make out what I was thinking. "You've got the most important part down already."

"And what's that?" I asked, tired of this stupidity. All this talk was going to get us was two chairs sat side by side in the execution chamber.

"Compassion."

I closed my eyes.

_Frell_, I thought. The unnamed emotion. That was it's name. _Compassion. I'm frelled._

**END OF CHAPTER BORA**_  
_


	3. Chapter Calo

**Roads**

By **Rel Fexive**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Farscape or the characters. But it's fun to pretend sometimes.

**Summary:** Realisations, decisions and plans.

**CHAPTER CALO**

The arrival of Rokko and Ishanden ended the conversation, but Lan left me with something that could only be described as a sympathetic look. It was not very often that I saw such a thing, so it took me a while to recognise it.

Compassion and empathy. The cornerstones of irreversible contamination. Get too close to your inferiors, to aliens, and your priorities changed; they made you forget your duty to the Peacekeepers, made you a threat to everything we – they – stood for. Nothing else could earn you a death sentence quicker. And I was neck deep in it, literally irreversibly so.

If Lan and his resisting friends could work that out, anyone could. Political officers, review boards, commanding officers… It was surprising I was still alive. Maybe it was not as obvious as I feared… Certainly I had done a good job of covering my tracks. Who would notice a massacre was a few dozen bodies short? Who would bother to check every burned out house, every transport ship, was not as cleansed as it was said to be if a trusted trooper said all was as it should be? Perhaps Lan's friends had only known because they had been… operating in that area, for lack of a better way to put it, and had covered it up even more.

In any case, I was frelled. Right up the fekkik and back down again. Either my superiors – in a hierarchical sense at least – would find out and they would bake me till I lost my mind, or these people would blackmail me into doing what they wanted me to do. Whatever that was. Either way, I was on borrowed time with no control over my life till it ended.

Unless…

The thought settled in my brain and I just stared at it for a time. Around me fake Peacekeepers and Vaerryn rebels (terrorists? freedom fighters?) prepared to do whatever it was that their supposed consciences told them they had to do. Rescue women and children… non-combatants who would be used, no doubt brutally, to convince the leaders of their world to submit to their new masters.

And it was clear that the Peacekeepers were the masters of their world, now. No matter what anyone did, what _I_ did, nothing could change that except for the sort of miracle I did not believe in. Would it matter, in the grand scheme of things, if I helped or hindered? It would not free the Vaerryn if I did. And it would not contribute to any present or future rebellion either, as far as I could see.

Should I help them?

It took me a few microts to notice the boots that had come into my field of vision. They shifted impatiently as the person wearing them spoke again.

"Get up, you."

Looking up, I saw Rhedd standing over me, rifle at the ready, his face a picture of dislike. He did not trust me; I would not trust me, either. Rhedd frowned and gestured with the rifle. Unwilling to see what he would do if I did not comply, I pushed myself to my feet, not an easy task with the still painful pulse blast wound pulling at my back. The cuffs made it much harder, and Rhedd leaned in to check them roughly, pulling at my wrists.

"I don't care what the lieutenant says," he muttered so only I could hear it, "you step out of line and I'll drop you in an instant."

"I'll remember that," I replied equally quietly, "and take you out first." Our grins were as grim and mirthless as each others.

Rhedd tugged me aside against the wall of the cave as a squad of Vaerryn hustled past us from the back of the cave somewhere. Others were working to pack up the gear spread around the cave. Lan came towards us, talking quietly but animatedly with a Vaerryn wearing a bandana. The cloth bore the symbols associated with leadership that were normally branded on the side of the head, but I could see the wearer's head was unmarked. Obviously it was a way to avoid being marked as a leader when seen by or worse, captured by the Peacekeepers.

"What's going on?" I called out to the lieutenant and got an elbow in the side for my troubles.

"Not now," was all the reply he had time for as he was swept past me and my new 'friend'.

"Let's go," that 'friend' ordered with a jab of a rifle barrel. I complied and allowed him to direct me in the wake of my one–time commander. Outside things were looking frantic, but I could see how organised they all were. Rebel cells like that one had to be ready to pick up and move at a microt's notice. Something was happening; perhaps the prey had been found? Or maybe some unforeseen occurrence had complicated matters, a common thing in war.

It was not long before everything was gathered up and ready to go. About twenty beings were clustered at the base of the small cliff that rose above us, surrounded on all sides by heavy vegetation that would, in theory, conceal them from view if no one looked too closely. I could just see a couple of hoversleds through the bushes at the other end of a path, along which the Vaerryn started to move. Rhedd and I followed after.

I could see Lan and his men gathered around the smaller sled, while everyone else concentrated in loading up the second. The lieutenant waved us over.

"One of the hunting parties has gotten onto the trail of the children," he explained briskly. "We are going to have to dissuade them."

"I won't kill Peacekeepers for you," I told him firmly. I would have crossed my arms had I been able to.

"Even if they're in the wrong?"

"They don't know that."

"So you admit they _are_ in the wrong?" Lan asked searchingly.

_Frell_ I thought. "Why do you need me?" I asked out loud.

"I don't right now," Lan told me, "but the only other option is killing you and leaving your corpse in that cave back there. Since I'd rather not waste a valuable resource – or a potential ally – you get to come with us instead." He nodded to Rhedd, who grabbed an elbow and dragged me closer to the sled. Saryn and Polen clambered into the back and pulled me up to sit alongside them on the flat back of the sled, a local cargo carrier by the look of it.

"Sit back and enjoy the ride," Saryn told me with a grin, "it'll be fun. How's the injury?"

"Not your concern," I said and turned away from him as well as I was able.

"I'm your medic," he reminded me as the hum of the sled got louder. It began to rise and rotate on the spot as the driver programmed the course. "That makes it my concern."

"Then I'll let you know if I'm about to die. Otherwise, leave me alone." I could see him nod out of the corner of my eye and his expression, like Lan's, was sympathetic.

Yeah. Sympathy for the condemned man.

--------------------------------------------------

The ride was unremarkable to begin with, besides the fact that I was amongst a group of Peacekeeper traitors in the middle of a mostly-pacified alien planet. But there was no vengeful pulse fire from Above, no Marauders sweeping in over the hills to obliterate us. Just the passing countryside, rocky and spotted with vegetation. The hum of the sled, the quiet mutter of voices. And the seething mess of my own thoughts.

I was a soldier. A Peacekeeper. Peacekeepers obeyed orders and fought the enemy, whoever that was, and brought order where there was only chaos before for the betterment of our people. I had killed, I had slain subversives, I had put down rebellion. I had defeated and been defeated.

I was a traitor. Irreversibly contaminated. I disobeyed orders when it suited me and helped non-combatants irrespective of whether they could be a threat in the future. I had killed those who were trying to kill me and murdered the defenceless. I had beaten those unable to stop me and been routed by more determined opponents.

Trees passed us by.

Lan seemed very sure that I would turn to his point of view in the end. I had a horrible feeling he was right. As I went back over what he had said, why he was doing what he was doing, it sounded like madness, or a huge lie. How could a tiny, secret faction in the Peacekeepers ever hope to turn that monolithic organisation off it's path and change the opinions of everyone else in the galaxy at the same time? Just by small actions, miniscule changes in orders?

No wonder it sounded crazy.

My eyes turned from the terrain to see Polen looking at me. With her helmet off, the wind made her short, dark hair stream out behind her. I tried to forget the time we had recreated a few days before the mission.

"You have questions," she said. It was not a question, it was a statement.

"How the frell do you hope to succeed?" I asked her. I sensed a kind of tension settle around me as everyone tried to pretend they were not listening to every word.

"Time," she shrugged. "Slow change. It'll take longer than either of us will be alive, generations."

"Just with little cells like this, disobeying orders?" I shook my head, incredulous. "You've got no hope."

She paused, then spoke quietly. "Rumour is, we have supporters higher up. People with influence. And that we have at least one of us on every Command Carrier and base." She shrugged. "Don't know how true that is. But I think there's a leadership, and that we're moving in a direction, not just going every which way as the mood takes us." She glanced at Rhedd, sat further back on the flatbed. "Some think I'm talking dren, though."

Whatever else I thought, whatever I may have done, one thing kept coming back.

"How do you deal with killing other Peacekeepers?" I asked them both.

"I do what I have to," grunted Rhedd.

"Doesn't happen often," Polen told me.

"But it does happen?"

"Only happened to me twice," she went on. "The idea is to keep what we do quiet, but sometimes it's unavoidable." She was silent for a long moment. "Sometimes they are as much an enemy as the system they represent. They believe it completely and will do anything they are told. Doesn't mean I like that I have to kill them. They are just doing their duty, what they believe is right. As are we."

"You're too soft," Rhedd told her unsympathetically.

"Aren't we all?" she replied with a sad smile. The other just growled and went back to watching for trouble or whatever it was that he was looking for in the land around us.

Would it be so bad to help them? How different was it from the little indiscretions I had already perpetrated alone?

It was tempting… very tempting. Even with the risk of discovery, with the danger of a no doubt very secret tribunal that would keep the whole thing quiet. There was one reason above the others that meant it appealed so much.

Purpose.

I felt that I had lost my way over the last few cycles. My own doubts, just a whisper within me in case even I became aware of them, let alone anyone else, making me feel that my duty to my people was not enough. That my duty was not to them at all, but to those I served in High Command. That my actions, and the actions of all Peacekeepers, went purely to serve their need for power, for their safety against threats like the Scarrans.

That tiny whisper kept agreeing with Lan and his assessments. The question was, did the rest of me agree too?

--------------------------------------------------

An arn later we stopped. Edan and Polen went to scout ahead while everyone else got prepared. Helmets, weapons, the whole lot. Except for me. I got to be sat on a rock with my hands still bound in front of me.

"What's going on?" I inquired, more than a little annoyed. They still treated me like a prisoner, but until I made whatever vows of allegiance they required of me it seemed likely I would stay that way. I still did not know if I meant to take such a vow or not.

"Once we know what the squad is doing," Lan informed me, "we'll know better."

It was a tense few microns as we waited. It would have been nice to have gear to fuss over, but I was the only one that did not have any. They all seemed to be concentrating on their weapons and their chakan oil cartridges, which worried me.

What had happened? What were they going to do? Distract this other squad, send them elsewhere…. Or kill them? I hoped Lena was far away.

Then Edan reappeared, moving at a jog. He approached Lan and they spoke quietly, heads close together, so I could not hear them from where I sat. They did share a glance in my direction, though. Fear sank cold and heavy in my guts.

"Everyone up!" Lan ordered suddenly, settling his helmet on his head. "Bring the prisoner." Me, of course. Rhedd grabbed me and pulled me roughly along behind the rest and over the crest of the hill we had been hidden behind. My feet slid a little on the loose rocks as I was all but dragged along, but I kept upright.

On the other side I could see the other squad waiting for us in the cover of a cluster of bush-shrouded boulders. There was six of them, and Polen waited with them. With their helmets on, I could not see if Lena was with them. My feet felt heavy, like I was being dragged to an execution. Whether it was theirs, or mine, or both, I did not know.

What if it had all been a lie? A trick to make me reveal myself? It did not seem likely. If it had been just us, out in the wilderness, talking about it, it might have been possible. But with the Vaerryn rebels, and the camp, and everything… it seemed less likely. Especially just to catch one person. If my commanding officers had suspected me at all there would have been none of this subterfuge, this game-playing; they would have had me arrested by the Enforcers, charged and executed before the end of the day.

"Officer Nezin," Lan greeted the armoured figure that presented itself as the leader. The helmet came off and she saluted. I felt an almost overwhelming sense of relief; Nezin was not Lena's squad leader. Not that it made my position any safer.

"Lieutenant." Her voice was as severe as her expression. "I was not aware you were covering this area."

"The search has taken us all out of where we were supposed to be, Nezin," Lan told her pointedly once he had removed his own helmet. "Why are _you_ here?"

"We were following the tracks as directed when Headon detected a signal," the squad leader explained. "We kept on for a few more arns and he told me the signal was still strong." She stood taller, somehow making herself more stiffly at attention than ever. "I decided it was worth investigating."

"And now here you are, metras out of your assigned area, on what, a hunch?" Lan looked disgusted. "Who are you to say where you should or should not be?" Out of the corner my eyes I could see Lan's squad begin to move forwards as Nezin's people began to relax.

"The signal has continued to strengthen as we followed it, sir," Nezin explained herself.

"I'm sure it has," he frowned. "And now I have to deal with you as well as this prisoner." His look of annoyance became more dangerous as he looked at me. "A traitor, communicating with the enemy," was how he described me, sounding surprised that a Peacekeeper would do such a strange thing. "No doubt the source of your signal." He paused. "Did you report it back to HQ?" he asked casually.

"I maintained radio silence as ordered," Nezin replied coldly, as if daring him to claim she had disobeyed any more orders.

"Good," Lan nodded, and gestured.

The air was filled with pulse fire as Lan's squad, having reached the optimum position, gunned down the other squad at close range without hesitation. Oddly, the blasts carried the red tinge of aged chakan oil rather than the usual bright yellow glare. A simple ruse to conceal who had killed the soldiers, if anyone checked. It seemed unlikely anyone ever would, however.

In a few microts it was over.

"What the _frell_ was that!" I yelled into the silence. I was shaken by the casual slaughter of those I still considered my comrades, however willing they would have been to sit and watch my slow descent into oblivion by Living Death upon my conviction of treason.

"What had to be done." There was a grimness to Lan that I had not seen before. The others were as quiet and unmoving as statues. After a moment the lieutenant approached me and unclipped the cuffs on my wrists. We stared at each other for a long microt; my face filled with shock and conflict, his closed and bleak.

"You know we're serious now." He spoke quietly, earnestly. "That we are who and what we say we are." His eyes narrowed. "You are as much a part of this as us. You could've warned them, done something… but you did not. I won't presume it was because you are with us… rather that you are not with them." Lan searched my face for some hint as to what I was thinking, while I struggled to get my Peacekeeper mask in place. "You're being given the chance to be more than what duty and blind obedience has made you. To make a difference, however small."

I could feel the others move in close around us. I knew that they would not hesitate to shoot me dead in a heartbeat.

"I know you want to make a difference," Lan told me quietly, reading my supposedly hidden feelings on the matter all too easily. "I felt the same. You want a purpose to your life again. I can give that to you. I _want_ to give that to you." He held up his hand between us. "Be part of something. Be more than you are."

I looked at his hand. Then I took it.

**END OF CHAPTER CALO**


	4. Chapter Dimo

**Roads**

By **Rel Fexive**

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Farscape or the characters. Imagine the hilarity if I did!

**Summary:** Regrets, commitment, conflict and resolve.

**CHAPTER DIMO**

I began to regret my decision the microt I had made it. I had set myself on the same path as them, one that put me completely at odds with practically every other Peacekeeper I would meet from that moment on, including my closest comrades. But what else could I do? I could not deny that I was sympathetic to their cause, in principle at least. And so signing up to their movement of resistance seemed inevitable. Unavoidable.

It was the offer of a purpose to my life that was the most enticing. To feel that what you did every day had real meaning. Time would tell how true that was.

We left the bodies where they were but took their equipment, the easily taken items at least; weapons and the like. The sort of thing rebels would grab and run with. Needless to say, I did not take part. I did not want to, considering the circumstances, but it was also that I was not permitted to. Despite my recent pledge of allegiance, they did not yet entirely trust me.

That done, it was back to the hoversled. We all climbed back aboard and set off again.

"Where are we headed?" I asked Polen, who was watching over me again.

"Spaceport," she replied, brushing hair out of her eyes. "There's a ship ready to take our charges somewhere safer. By now our contacts in the Carrier overhead should've worked in a sensor blind for it so they can get away."

"And we are going to do what?" Already it was _we_.

"Cover their exfil," the woman shrugged.

We watched the terrain go past for a time. Maybe half an arn, maybe less.

"You'll get used to it eventually," Polen said, interrupting my thoughts of my impending imprisonment and torture. "It's very liberating, actually."

I frowned. "Liberating?"

"Peacekeeper life is regimented, every aspect strictly controlled by custom and tradition far more than by mere laws," Polen began to explain. "Who you can interact with, who you can talk to, who you can recreate with. Friendships and the like are all but forbidden, we are only allowed to have comrades, no attachments." She looked sour. "It might work when we are in the field, but any other time it can be… undesirable. So many of us who join the movement are more… free-thinking."

"Free-thinking?" I asked. "You mean you rebel by having friends?"

"Friends, yes," Polen nodded. "And allies. And lovers. And mates."

"Mates?" It sounded… strange to say it. An alien idea. But then, every Peacekeeper was inured against making that kind of attachment. Sexual energies and attraction were directed into recreating, and children were created literally to order, to fill the ranks. No one forged the kind of attachment required to become _mates_. It simply was not done.

"I've heard it can be…." Polen seemed to be searching for the right word. "Satisfying," she finished at last, nodding, having found the word she was looking for. I just looked at her sceptically. She shrugged. "That's what I've heard. Don't know the truth of it myself."

"If you've finished gossiping," Rhedd broke in, "you need to get prepared." He threw a helmet to Polen, and then another to me. He paused a moment before reluctantly passing me a pulse rifle. I checked it quickly: fully loaded and charged. "Careful where you point it," he told me. I took the comment for the warning it was.

"What's the plan?" I asked him.

"We get close to the port using the buildings as cover," Rhedd explained, "then offload and cover their retreat on foot. Should be fine as long as no one got too close behind them, which was what the whole fake trail tactic was about."

"It won't be that easy, you know," I told him. He snorted.

"Of course not," he replied, "but it's nice to dream." He pulled his helmet on, and Polen and I did the same. The comms crackled to life.

"Port perimeter in ten microns," Lan announced.

I checked over my gear one last time. The others did the same.

We were ready.

--------------------------------------------------

We passed two rings of patrols before we entered the city proper. Whatever wide-ranging authorisation Lan carried, it got us past every question they asked us. Then we lost ourselves in the streets and avoided all the attention we could.

It was slow going. We all kept a lookout for anyone and anything that might see us; patrols, aircraft overhead, tenacious locals who had not moved out after orbital bombardment that had levelled half the city. Our path seemed without direction, but the overall bearing was dictated by the lieutenant.

We had one near miss. The sled had to be slammed through a broken wall to get inside the ruined building beyond in order to hide from a particularly insistent and curious air raft, almost overflowing with black-armoured troops. It was a nervous three microns as we waited for them to decide if there was anything worth investigating, until the dwindling hum of engines told us their answer was in the negative.

It felt strange to be hiding from our own people. But then, for that moment at least, every Peacekeeper was our enemy. I was still, understandably, uncomfortable with that reality. I knew the time was coming, though, when I would have to get used to it. And sooner rather than later.

All the way, Lan split his attention between our circuitous route and communicating with the group we were to meet up with.

"Our charges have made contact with the advance party," he announced after an arn of slow travel down rubble-strewn streets. I could tell our path had been a rough zigzag from one side of the city to the other, but that was about it. Most of the areas we had passed through had been either cheap residential or industrial in nature, areas less likely to still have anyone in them. "We will leave the sled soon and continue on foot to the meeting point."

Grunts and nods of acknowledgement followed his statement, as we made our final checks. Armour settled comfortably, equipment secured so as to make the least possible noise, weapons charged. Some of us checked others in the squad, testing armour and webbing points we could not see ourselves. It had the dual effect of ensuring we were as ready as we could be, and it helped to cement the squad bond as everyone looked out for their comrades. It almost made me feel a full member of the squad again.

Almost.

"Halt!" the lieutenant ordered suddenly. "Everyone out!" The sled jerked to a stop and the squad disembarked so quick it was like they did not cross the short intervening space between seat and ground. Eyes and weapon muzzles scanned the surroundings for threats.

Mission time. It was good not to be thinking about matters of galactic significance anymore, but to be thinking only of the potential dangers around us and how to react to them. Things could be so much simpler at times like that.

"Good," Lan murmured over the comms. "Move out, three fingers, fifty points post decca, local." We split into our assigned groups and started off along the bearing he had given us. I was in the middle group, or finger, with Lan, Ishanden and Rhedd, while our point group went ahead and the rest followed behind.

--------------------------------------------------

Every step was a risk, every corner turned a hazard. We were as careful as we could possibly be, mostly to avoid announcing our presence to any Peacekeeper forces in the area. More than ever I felt as if the Command Carrier high above us was watching our every move and the weight of it's regard weighed heavily on my head.

We began to move into one of the better areas of the city, which also meant it was more damaged than those we had passed through before. The starport, our final destination, had seen much more bombardment than any other part of the city, barring military targets, though it had mostly been to clear the way for our own landing ships. Evidence of a certain amount of inaccuracy became more and more evident as we got closer; the surrounding structures had sustained more damage than those further away.

Lan brought us to a halt in view of the broken perimeter wall, then sent the point group on ahead.

"We find the target group," Lan instructed us, "then shadow their approach to the waiting ship." We settled in for a wait in the remains of some sort of shop, the produce long gone or rotted way to scraps. I was nominated for watch duty and crouched beside a broken window, eyes on one end of the street while Tenzac watched the other.

It began as a dot. It slowly grew larger and larger until a quick look through my scope revealed it was indeed a Marauder. More importantly, it was definitely heading our way rather than angling towards the port. It eventually came to a stop and hung overhead like some predatory monster of legend, turning leisurely one way and then the other as if sniffing out it's prey. Then it's engines growled to life and it flew off, almost grazing the shattered rooftops as it went.

A handful of microts later Edan came into sight, running across the street as fast as he could. He was breathing heavily as he entered the shop.

"Our evacuees have been spotted," he reported, gasping for breath. "Comm chatter confirms several patrols have been diverted into the grid for a search." He glanced upwards. "That Marauder was part of it, but only for a visual check." Lan nodded calmly.

"Send the order on the special channel," the lieutenant ordered. "Start the local jamming. The observer station will still be able to warn our contact on the Carrier when the escape ship lifts off by laser link." Behind him, Goran nodded, even though Lan could not see him, and I could just make out through his helmet visor that he appeared to be muttering to himself, no doubt sending the word out on some encrypted comms channel.

Lan looked around at us. "Let's go."

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The meeting place was in the ruins of a departure lounge. Rows of chairs and other furniture had been thrown everywhere by the explosions that had taken most of the roof off and reduced the ground outside to a field of ragged craters. A fire had torn through the wreckage at some point, splashing black smoke stains along the walls and floor in several places.

Our evacuees were huddled in one corner, under the remaining section of roof, maybe twelve small figures accompanied by eight larger ones, all of them swathed in a combination of blankets and robes. Between them and us were three people in Peacekeeper armour, their helmets off. The way one of their number greeted Lan told me they were friends. That and the fact that the Vaerryn refugees were still alive.

I had seen other members of this other traitorous squad on our approach, covering the numerous entry routes to the area. Hopefully they had been very alert, watching out for Peacekeeper search parties. With all comms jammed throughout the whole spaceport, no one could listen in to anyone's communications, so visual communication by gestures was the only way to tell friend from foe on sight.

Even worse, it meant the Peacekeeper command group knew something was going on.

Both factors made things… tricky. For everyone. But much more so for double agents like us.

Only Lan and Goran went close to the evacuees. The rest of us were kept back for their security and ours. From where I was I could see the faces peeking out from under the blankets: the tired, scared faces of children who had seen too much horror, the equally exhausted faces of the adults, their fear better hidden for the sake of the young ones.

Lan and one of the adults talked for a time before reaching some kind of agreement. He held the robed figure's clenched fists in his hands in the acceptance ritual, placing the group of alien civilians under his command. Then he returned to join the rest of us.

"Four fingers," he whispered to us. "Point group, two and three on either side, four at the rear. Go." We hastened to obey as he gestured to the evacuees to move out, Polen and Edan leading; Lan, Goran and Tenzac on their hammond side; me, Ishanden and Saryn on the treblin; and Rhedd and Rokko bringing up the rear as usual.

Our expanded group spread out a little as we began to make our way between wrecked buildings. Polen and Edan would scout ahead, and the middle group would continue on when they indicated all was well. Rhedd and Rokko moved much more slowly, their attention fixed solely on the way we had come, alert for signs of stealthy pursuit, relying on the rest of us to spot an approach from the sides.

We saw no sign of anyone else for close to twenty microns, though we still remained as tense as we had ever been in a combat situation, partly from the fact that a patrol could come upon us almost without warning. Then a gesture from Tenzac made us all stop as still as statues. He had seen something.

Slowly we went down into a crouch, weapons facing outwards as we strained not to look just at the direction Tenzac was looking. We waited.

And waited.

Three microns passed before Tenzac indicated that it looked safe to continue. We did so very carefully, Lan and Saryn guiding the knot of Vaerryn with calming gestures. Needless to say, the rest of us were a lot less calm, our nerves jangling with the stress.

I could tell we were getting near to our destination when the sound of ship engines running at standby could clearly be heard echoing around the blocky structures of the spaceport surrounding us. Our movement slowed even further as it occurred to us that the area around the ship could be guarded by Peacekeepers who would be thinking, rightly, that it could be the destination for the aliens sneaking around in the vicinity. Though they almost certainly had no idea what use we intended for it.

Another moment of statue stillness arrived as someone from the point group gestured at us from cover before approaching. As they got closer I was able to recognise Polen. She went straight to the lieutenant and they had a quick talk. He nodded and tapped himself on the top of his helmet to get everyone's attention; then he gestured to Rhedd and myself to join him.

I quickly squeezed through the mass of Vaerryn children, trying not to look at them too closely as their eyes followed me, and joined the hammond group.

"A squad is guarding the ship," he whispered, confirming all our suspicions. "They have the pilots under guard." He looked hard at us. "We will have to take them out quickly, before any other units can get close enough to stop the ship taking off." He paused, thinking. "Wind your rifle straps around your upper arms," he ordered, stripping the strap from his own rifle quickly. "Tell everyone to do it. It's the best way to identify ourselves to each other." He Put his rifle down and set about tying his strap on. "Ishanden, Rhedd and Rokko will stay back with the Vaerryn. Get moving."

Polen, Rhedd and I returned to our groups and passed the order along. Soon we were all subtly marked, so if things got close and intense we would be able to avoid shooting each other. Hopefully it would not be so obvious that the other squad would catch on too quick. Once all was ready, Polen, who had moved to be in a position to see us and her point-mate, Edan, at the same time, gestured to us and movement continued.

When Lan decided we were close enough, he gestured to the evacuees and the three designated sentries directed them towards the cover of a mass transport vehicle. It had been burnt out but would still offer a good sanctuary for them while we cleared the way for them. Then the rest of us formed up with the lieutenant and we crept carefully in the direction of the noise of idling engines.

In the centre of the landing field was a civilian craft about the size of a Marauder. The rear ramp was down and facing us, three Vaerryn knelt beside it, hands on their heads, with four Peacekeepers, anonymous in their armour, standing over them. Four others were spread around in varying attitudes of alertness. Perhaps forty motras of open ground was between us and them, the furthest another fifty beyond them.

Lan gestured towards the group with a nod of his helmeted head and we carefully came out into view, so as not to make them reflexively blast us into pieces. They did react quickly, weapons coming to bear on us in less than a microt, but then there was a general relaxing as it became clear who we were. Or at least who we seemed to be.

"Identify yourselves," one of the three standing over the captured pilots grated, his rifle not quite pointed away from us. Saryn and I kept our attention on the way we had come, both to follow standard combat procedure and to keep a look out for anyone who might see our forthcoming treachery. The rest stood in a ragged line centred on Lan, waiting for his order to strike.

"Captain Loash," the lieutenant replied briskly, "Icarion Company. Cerka patrol. Situation?"

"Before the jamming we received word of a rebel group seeking to flee the planet, Captain," the other responded. "My patrol found this ship readying for take-off and secured the crew for interrogation." I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the pilots had not been taken easily; they had bruises and some other injuries that suggested they had already been questioned.

"Good, good," Lan nodded, then jerked his head towards the other Peacekeepers.

Two things happened simultaneously. Our squad opened fire on the patrol guarding the shuttle, and another patrol walked out into the open sixty motras beyond the shuttlecraft. Their reaction was predictable, with only the barest nanomoment of hesitation. What they thought was going on was anyone's guess.

The end result was that those in the original patrol who were furthest away avoided being killed immediately because the pulse fire from the second group pinned us down. Those closest were taken out in under three microts. Tenzac got down alongside the pilots and freed them from their restraints.

We had the cover of the ship, our opponents had the cover of the buildings they had passed through to reach the landing field. The situation quickly became static as each side tried to pick off the other as they became visible.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Lan gesture back the way we had come.

"Covering fire in blue!" he warned us, 'blue' meaning twenty microts as always. Obviously something was going to happen, and once the allotted time had passed I saw what it was. The lieutenant had ordered our charges forwards to get them into the escape ship. So as the children and their protectors came into view we lay down a blizzard of pulse fire to keep the patrol's head's down.

"Incoming!" someone yelled, and there was a sudden, frantic scrabbling for cover at the same time as we tried to see what was coming. I spotted the grenade just as it landed alongside Lan's position where he crouched with Goran. The corporal spotted it the same moment I did and acted fast, pushing Lan aside and beginning to shield him with his body as it exploded with a roar and a bright flash.

Goran took almost the full blast. It shredded his armour with shrapnel and seemed to splatter his blood everywhere. His torn, smoking corpse collapsed on top of Lan, who seemed to have taken a lot of shrapnel in the legs. At the same time the pulse fire from our opponents intensified as they seemed about ready to begin a push out from cover towards us.

I pulled Goran aside, as he was clearly dead, and gave the lieutenant a quick look-over. His legs were badly injured but otherwise he seemed fine. I did not remove his helmet to check, since he had warned us about revealing exactly who was wearing our armour. It was possible we could be mistaken for Vaerryn rebels in disguise… if we were not looked at too closely.

There was another explosion close by. Only a handful of microts had passed since the first grenade, though it had seemed like arns. Without thinking I snatched a grenade from the corporal's body and activated it. The small flashing light on top of the slim cylinder hypnotised me for a microt before I shook my head and threw the grenade at the approaching soldiers.

My aim was good; it went off close to a staggered threesome of Peacekeepers, throwing them to the ground in a belch of smoke, fire and razor-sharp fragments. Then I aimed my rifle and made sure they would stay down. I knew we had to take them all out to prevent word of exactly what had happened getting back to our – their – commanders. If we were the only ones standing we could make up almost any story we wanted.

"Take them!" I yelled and the others were quick to comply. A few stray bolts of pulse fire flashed past and around us, one of them dropping one of the adult Vaerryn. The alien children began to scream, their high voices clearly audible even over the raging firefight around me, but Rokko and Ishanden kept them moving while Rhedd fired over their heads.

Our concerted effort got the rest of the evacuees safely into the cover of the ship. The engines were screaming with the urge to hurtle the shuttle up into the air and away from all the violence around it. Not many of the Peacekeeper patrol were left, and we had taken a number of casualties ourselves. It was time to end it.

"Advance!" I ordered at the top of my voice, and the others broke cover as the shuttle began to rise a little on it's skids. Tenzac nodded to me as the ramp closed; with Goran's death it was his job to ensure the ship followed the prearranged flight plan and reached the meeting point. That final duty done, I joined the remains of my squad and cleared out the last of the resistance.

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The ship had vanished into the sky by the time we were done. Goran and Rhedd were dead, and the rest of us sported various non-threatening injuries. And between those two extremes was Lieutenant Lan, inexorably moving from one state to other with none of us able to do anything about it.

"Hekka," he gurgled through clenched teeth. He had been laid back against a support pillar in one of the ruined buildings where we had taken shelter after we had 'failed to prevent rebels escaping'. They had managed to remain disguised long enough for their ambush to be successful. Or so our official reports would say. I approached the dying man and knelt down beside him.

"What is it?" I asked, and waited before he finished coughing. Shrapnel had flung itself deep inside his torso and mortally wounded him… he had less than half an arn, at best, and a painful time of it even through the painkillers. Once he was done hacking up blood, he reached up and grabbed hold of my armour harness.

"You did well," he whispered. "They'll give you time to consider… before they call on you again. Make the most of it… then things will get interesting." He grinned mirthlessly, his teeth stained with blood. A cough. "Serve our people. Do me proud."

"Who is in command here?" A loud, non-nonsense voice broke into the conversation. I stood and turned to look in it's direction. Through a hole in the wall I saw two squads of Peacekeepers had finally arrived, lead by an Officer, easily called in now that the jamming had been lifted. We had seen other patrols around the area the last quarter arn, but these were the first to approach us. The others, it seemed, had been sent merely to secure the area.

"I am," I replied, rubbing at my eyes with the back of my hand. "Sergeant Hekka, Alto company, Dovidar regiment." I glanced at Lan, and looked again when I saw that there was no longer anything to his stare but the position of his dead eyes. "Lieutenant Lan died from injuries sustained in the ambush," I continued tiredly.

"The rebel ambush?" the Officer asked, sounding disgusted. "When you let them escape in a ship you had secured?"

"My report will confirm my squad did all it could," I told him with a steely tone in my voice, "as did the others."

"I'm sure it will," the Peacekeeper sneered.

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"So what happened?"

I turned to look at Lena. Her chair was leant back against the wall of the mess, hands behind her head. Her expression was bland, casual, which meant she was trying her utmost not to attract attention by interrogating me too closely. I was still being watched closely, even three solar days after the supposed ambush. Someone higher up was looking for a scapegoat, and it seemed the dead Lan might not be enough.

I looked towards where Coress was fetching our drinks, much as any thirsty soldier might, but used the opportunity to take in the faces around the room. No one seemed to be taking any particular interest in us, although it was easy to become anonymous on a Command Carrier. Almost as easy as it was to become infamous.

"What do you mean? I asked my friend. And friend she was… but I could not tell her anything. I had no idea how she would take the truth. Turn me in instantly, probably. Perhaps… I could sound her out. See where her sensibilities lay. How deep her loyalties to the Peacekeepers were….

I laughed at myself. _Already I'm thinking of recruiting others… I must be crazy._ I could be dead before the end of the weeken, found guilty of treason; or quietly disappeared so the truth was not known. Or… I could be left alone, and then called upon by this resistance movement to help with some other mad scheme to overthrow the Peacekeepers one tiny step at a time.

"What is it?" Lena asked me, her eyes intent on me. She had obviously seen something of my internal dialogue in my expression.

"Nothing," I lied, another lie amongst so many gone before and many more to come. "Just thinking about the dead."

"The died doing their duty," she replied, the stock answer. Only their duty had been to something else, a cause she probably did not even suspect existed.

Would I one day die for that cause, my true allegiance unknown?

**END**


End file.
